"haemorrhoids" poems
i couldn't stand the heat,
spent most of the time in the shade,
everyone made fun
of the guy standing by the pool
reading a book, pretending to
be a sundial;
i was called the whiskey-man;
one night i slept outside
and by the time i woke up my glass
of brandy disappeared;
mingled with the "auctioneers"
of a good time; boy one of those
kenyan girls was hot... oomph,
she looked like oiled coal, slimy bits
and raw ***
i know i was a tourist...
played a stupid drinking game with
two english girls, snogged one
at the end of the game, wasn't invited
back to the room for a *********
spent hours at night looking at the tide
splashing the shore, cried at the painting
so alive all the museums and galleries
became graveyards of appreciation;
it was a holiday resort, i admit,
although one bartender asked me to do
a local tour of the place, go clubbing,
supposedly a colonial ******* i was
upon first reading;
but the heat though! god almighty, couldn't
stand the temperature,
i was literally an ice-cream cone most
of the time, took to the shades,
wrote a short story for my grandfather
about an elephant dunking his trunk into
a bottle of brandy...
one day got chatting to a scottish pair
and a russian couple,
told the scottish guy about travis' 12 memories
album,
i was originally asking for a cigarette,
so we drank and chatted about mickey mouse
politics of america...
the scottish guy eventually ran off and jumped
into the kids' shallow pool veering
on blind-drunk-happy...
another time i too jumped into a pool
with my clothes on...
******* this heat...
ha, hmm, those kenyan macaques were funny
esp. on prompt of being fed on the balcony...
but boy that baboon was a menace,
a real anarchist, charged in like a donkey
with meningitis and stole food...
although one baboon had massive haemorrhoids...
and given his fat pinky *** it was even funnier to watch.
oh yeah, and this guy muhammad wanted
to take me to a crocodile sanctuary of his...
i sort of refused the invitation,
and no, i didn't go on the zoological escapade
of a safari to see the Masai tribesmen...
just gave c. g. jung's modern man in search of soul
to one of the caretakers of the resort.
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 7:43 AM UTC
Skinny Kid sat
by the white metal table
on the lawn
Anne sat opposite him
her crutches
by her chair
I heard
you puked last night?
Anne said
I did
Skinny kid said
all over the blankets
and pillowcase
nice
said Anne
it was the liver
they made me eat
he said
I told them
it made me ill
but they said
it was good for me
and said
I had to eat it
serves them right
she said
Sister Bridget moaned at me
he said
O her
she's got a face
on her
like a sufferer
of haemorrhoids
what's haemorrhoids?
he asked
painful
bulging blood vessels
hanging from the ****
she said
he tried not
to picture it
or see it
in the nun's face
feel better now though
he said
good
she replied
my mum's visiting today
he said
good for you
she said
has your mum
visited you yet?
he asked
no I think she's
making the most
of me
not being around
Anne said
it's a kind of holiday
for her
me stuck here
after my fecking leg
was chopped off
he stared
at the area
of her skirt
where no leg appeared
she saw me in the hospital
and brought me grapes
and flowers and stuff
and a bag
of odd socks
he stared
at her one leg
hanging from out
of the skirt
does it hurt?
he asked
it does at times
and I go to rub it
and it isn't there
someone's stolen
me fecking leg
Anne bellowed
to the kids
playing on the swings
and slide
on the lawn
of the nursing home
they looked over
at her
then quickly
looked away
a nun nearby
shook her head
and wagged
a finger
Skinny Kid looked
at the vacant area
of skirt again
what's the matter Kid
want to see my stump?
and she hitched up
her skirt
to reveal the stump
of her leg
and a glimpse
of blue underwear
he blushed
and looked
at his hands in his lap
never mind Kid
she said
good manners
is a load of crap.
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC
Yet another in my "Barry Hodges" series
O what a beautiful city is baroque and unspoiled Vilnius,
A veritable rose in the greyness of Eastern Europe,
And a centre of fierce Lithuanian pride and nationalism
Where loathing of Russia comes as part of the national tapestry,
Woven into the heart and soul of each true descendant of Gediminas:
"Tik geras rusų yra miręs rusų!"[note 1] my Litvak lady love would cry out
In moments of extreme and poetic ******** excitement,
As she farted tunefully through purple quilted haemorrhoids.
O dearest delightful Vilnius, where my obsessive adoration
Of this rather plump but still juicy middle-aged lady
Went unrequited when she was sober, despite the perpetual onslaught
Of my tenderly whispered syllables of love and lust,
Even when my mispronounced tirade of affirmations of desire
Rose to a pointless crescendo, wasted on the midnight hour,
As she shrieked: "Lietuvių valytojoms yra geriausias pasaulyje!" [note 2],
In a desperate attempt to retain her composure post-climax.
O how can I ever forget her egregiously insatiable ****** appetite or
Her immense cantilevered ***** whose glorious silhouette
I can still recall in the silvery moonlight shining through
The toilet window, as I peeped at her through the keyhole,
Watching her wipe between her gorgeous silken arse-cheeks,
With an improvised corner of the unfurled bathroom curtain,
Mysteriously muttering "Jei nėra silkių nereikia valgyti!" [note 3]
As she reviewed the remains of half-digested Cepelinai [note 4]
O woe! All is now finished and dear overweight Valerija is lost to me,
Having fallen drunkenly down an open manhole on Pilies one evening,
And I am left alone to wetly kiss the cryptic letter she left for me,
Staring sadly at the tear-stained smudged ink of her illiterate scrawls.
Yea, mate, her last words of warning and patriotic exhultation were:
"Jei jūsų kūdikis turi imbiero plaukus, mesti jį į upę!" [note 5]
Followed by "Valio už Lietuvos Vermachto karo didvyrių!" [note 6]
And I think they were probably the sanest things she ever said.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
Yay, it's another lovely Barry Hodges "Memories" poem.
How happily I recall the excitement of my visits to Lewisham's hospital
For my regular "haemorrhoid adjustment/re-alignment" sessions,
During which time I made the acquaintance of a nursing sister
With possibly the fiercest libido in south-east London.
And one night, whilst we were "on the job" in her comfy cubicle,
I glanced over her fat shoulder through the cracked observation window.
Ah yes, dear reader, it was the relatively cleanish Ward G
(the terminal one where the near-dead await merciful release,
wittily nicknamed "the happy dreamers' room" by the matron,
an evil predatory old **** with a 40-inch waist and wild halitosis);
I watched a spectacularly ugly nurse peering o'er the screen
Around poor old ******** Bertie "Big ***** Bloggs.
His wasted, crippled, whitened pyjamed form
Lay twitching on the none-too-clean patched sheets;
He opened his unseeing, ancient eyes and gave voice:
"Give us a gobble" the old ****** croaked pathetically,
"You know you want to, you fat smelly *****
And then he croaked. Unsucked and unloved,
O my beloved lector, compassionate creature that thou art,
Surely thy pleasure will be utterly intensified to learn that
The NHS bedsheets were indelibly and spectacularly stained
As his bowels opened spontaneously with Death's kindly appearance.
"Gor ******* blimey, what a ******* horrid pong," came a groan:
('twas Sammy "No Legs" Smith in mid-wank on a nearby trolley).
These events in the ward led to an inevitable result for me:
You have divined it correctly, O treasured fan of mine,
Yea verily, the happenings I espied made me blow my ***
Most prematurely and my love-partner, the sylphlike Sister Sally,
Was so sodding annoyed she crushed my tender haemorrhoids
Quite brutally in her surgical spirit-hardened left hand.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 8:42 AM UTC
*i can write like this, offer legal advice to someone who misguided their vehicle into a KEEP CLEAR area... you ever seen the A12 junction at romford's north street intersection where the same road indicators are painted? you ever see the traffic where the north street opposite directions try to engage with A12? how they're stagnant on the patch-work of the KEEP CLEAR indication? you know what i was writing about? a violition of the same symbol being "abused" in Goodmayes... with some very minor side-street... law... by human standards is just a knowledge of the: thesaurus... oh i can write this ******** language alright... first i write a poetic joke on day 1... then i revise it... censoring my comparison with a wildebeest stampede comparison being able to run through the space provided, contradicting the "obstruction"... eh... the human concept of law... equivalent to haemorrhoids obstructing a constipation from a rock-hard ****
To whomever it may concern:
as stated above with the appropriately ticked box – i.e. that there was no violation of an order to comply with the road sign. I put my case forward on the basis relating to the bias with regard to the positioning of the camera that precipitated in the penalty charge being filed. To detail this bias, I can only state that the evidence is biased due to the angle of the camera that could ever allow the penalty being issued. I state that I have a competence in understanding he basic principle of the road sign KEEP CLEAR – yet from the accusative evidence provided in the photograph is rather an over-estimation of what sort of obstruction I was creating. I understand that the intent to have a KEEP CLEAR sign at this particular point in the road network, is to allow oncoming traffic to be able to turn into the side street (Eastwood Rd) – but as the evidence clearly indicates, there is no obstruction for a vehicle to enter the road from the oncoming traffic, or from behind me. I appreciate that there is obstruction for a vehicle being driven out of Eastwood Rd – but as the photograph also serves the argument that there was traffic on the High Rd. May I add that one photograph does not justify the argument that I made the obstruction for an excessive amount of time – I would grant a justification for the penalty, had I the chance to see a larger body of evidence; such as: a second or third party vehicle being obstructed from not being able to join other vehicles in the commute on either Eastwood Rd or the High Rd. In conclusion, I find the body of evidence to be unsubstantiated with regard to the amount demanding a penalty.
Kind regards
yours, "anonymous".
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 11:58 AM UTC
And the young schmuck said,
How’s about a nice
Pretty photograph,
Girls, something to show
The folks back home, you
In your beautiful
Bathing costumes, so
Young and so well wrapped
Up there? Sure, Betsy
Said, why not, though don’t
Think my daddy’d be
Too pleased about me
In this here costume.
You looked at the schmuck
And tried hard not to
Imagine the dark
Working of his brain,
What images lay
There, what ******
Thoughts swirled around there
Like black oil in a
Sump. Sally looked just
Away from him, looked
Further up the beach
Or maybe the sea
Or sky, anywhere
But the young guy with
The camera, her
Being the quiet
Type and shy. But you
Knew his type, they were
Like haemorrhoids: a
Huge pain in the ****
Always there with the
Words, the wise cracks, with
Their slimy sayings;
But you knew all they
Ever wanted from girls,
Beyond the mouthy
Outpourings, was you
In the bed or some
Secret place and to
Be undressed and to
Copulate with, to
Have their way; but not
With you; you knew the
Goings on, you knew
Which way those kind of
Things ended and you
Knew that even though
Betsy gave him the
Smile and ease, she’d not
Settle for such a
Creep with his false smile,
Wheedling words or
Bright eyed stare. So he
Took his photograph
And you were captured
There on the beach in
New Orleans amongst
The other young folk,
Beneath a sky of
Blue, in your bathing
Costumes, beautiful
And youthful in the
Year of our sweet Lord,
1922.
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 2:06 PM UTC
these cultural darwinists always seem
to frame their arguments with
something akin to:
oh... when i was five...
well done!
i'm not jealous...
ridicule / sarcasm can be mistaken
for that sort of emotional content...
how about you sit on a balcony
with two macaque monkeys
and end up feeding them
sugar bags... and then tea...
without water...
and then wonder:
why are they getting all ******* crazy?
honest to god... i spent 2 weeks in kenya...
the highlight?
the macaque monkeys...
+ the baboon that was a somalian pirate
who raided the tourists' cafeteria...
and the other baboon with
haemorrhoid growths on its plump
pink protruding buttocks...
that was fun...
so yeah... kenya...
chilling during the day...
macaques going bonkers on the sugar...
chilling during the night...
macaques going bonkers paranoid: it's a snake!
africa is weird...
in europe it's not even like we get owls
roosting in outer-suburbia cooing...
in africa?
you can sit outside in the night and still
chance to hear a monkey twitching
or talking in its sleep...
but i really don't know how the colonial
powers that once were managed it...
2 weeks in... and i was like:
get me the **** out of here!
the heat was unbearable!
but it's true... they always
tell this story: oh, when i was five... clap clap clap...
oh when i was seven... hoorah!
and when i chilled out with two macaque monkeys
on a balcony... trying to forgive the kenyan
noon sun...
while watching a somali baboon
raid the tourists' cafeteria...
well... **** happens...
to be honest though...
the most soothing senstation runs through you
falling asleep in kenya in the night, watching
the ocean... on a deck chair...
you put an unfinished glass of brandy
near your head... you wake up in the morning...
and you're like: who the **** stole my brandy!
ah... but it's all about the macaques...
and the somali baboon pirates...
baboons are really obnoxious ********
they're not exactly cheeky like the macaques
due to their size...
strong *************
i'd say half the size of a chimpanzee...
ah **** but seeing haemorrhoids on a baboon's
protruding ***
let me tell you... that's a cure
for wanting to see the Eiffel tower
after seeing what i said prior.
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 7:50 PM UTC
An irritatating itch ,son of a *****
what is happening down there,
on my nice pert rear,with a mirror ,take a look
Oh my god what the Fork ,is that,hanging there
bunch of grapes ,quiet a pair ,and the pain ,no concealing ,
a most unpleasant feeling, "get the cream,get the cream,
no not deep heat,I will scream "
On the tissue there is blood ,oh my god thats not good ,
"Oh consultant what to do,such pain when I POO"
Lady doctor takes a look ,with a camera ,and then books me in
to have a band ,fitted ,in again with her hand ",there all done,be fine "
banded it ,let it die, so no longer am I annoyed with my Haemorrhoids
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 8:02 PM UTC
We met in a coffee bar
it was our lunch break
she from her workplace
me from mine
I got coffees and sandwiches
we sat by a window
looking out
what'd your mum say
about last Thursday
half day and you
were late home from work?
I asked
I said I was stock-taking
what did she say?
Again you only did
stock-taking the other week
and I said I know
but something wasn't right
so we had to do it again
what did she say to that?
I asked
she pulled a face
like she had haemorrhoids
and went off
Tilly said
you didn't mention
us having ***
at my place then?
No thought best not to
Tilly said
she smiled
what time did your mum
come home from work
that afternoon?
Tilly asked
not longer after
I came back
from seeing you off
through the back
I said
lucky break then
she said
yes but she likes you
and I don't think
she would have you minded
you being there
I said
but she wouldn't have
been pleased me being
in your bed stark naked
Tilly said
no I guess not
I said
we sipped our coffees
and ate our sandwiches
I miss you
when I'm not with you
she said
me too
I said
when we were at school
we could see each other
every day in class
now we don't get
the chance
she said
no I know
I said
we sat and ate
a jukebox was playing
a Beatles song
I sensed her near me
her body oozing
a hundred waves
of possibilities
across the table
we would again
if we were able.
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 2:59 AM UTC
*but maybe she fell asleep
hugging a pillow, cried,
hides her pains like she hides
her haemorrhoids in a g-string.*
shoo...... r....
and when i said the truth
she turned into a pyramid
attracting tourists so she could be believed
and keep some, sort of self-esteem...
and who's talking about sexism
ensuring women get no muscle
by keeping women the fair ***
keeping them so pampered it makes
the law of equated sexes as the same form
biased in her favour?
darwinism? i thought so,
because i was always a gorilla kangaroo
shape resemblance
***** donor on a conveyor belt
of ageing that was kept for the retirement pay-check
being inherited: and you expect me to
not climb up the big ben clock tower in purple lycra
and pretend humanity does not involve a passed on
bus ticket of some believable lesson to avoid a roundabout?
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 7:42 PM UTC
Madison Square was
Different back then,
Your grandmother said.
She spoke of long dark
Dresses and the heat
And hats and always
Having to be so
Aware of men’s stare.
She and her friend walked
Along by the horse
Drawn cabs, wondering
Where and how far you
Could go for the price
Of a big smile. You
Remember her
Sitting in her old
Rocking chair, her long
Grey hair, pinned up, a
Cigarette between
Lips gazing at you
Through the smoke, her eyes
Fading to a light
Blue, gazing at you,
Wondering if you
Was the kind of girl
She once was. Never
Told my parents where
We went, Grandmother
Confided; it’d
Give them grey hairs and
Haemorrhoids if they
Knew. She chuckled; coughed
And spat phlegm. That’s the
Difference, she said,
Between your mother
And me and me and
Them. Being just that
Little bit over
The edge, daring the
Reach beyond others.
You recall her last
Days, laid up in bed,
Staring out the large
Window, at the blue
Of sky, waiting for
Death to come for her,
The slow wait to die.
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 4:40 AM UTC